


Of Gingerbread and Flies

by Perhapsormaybe



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, M/M, but more friendship than romance, it's fluff, lots of fluff, small romantic moments but not the point, sweet winter fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28534104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perhapsormaybe/pseuds/Perhapsormaybe
Summary: Beelzebub would like to challenge Crowley. But the Them step in to make sure the competition is more appropriate for winter activities. And of course, no one likes games more than The Them. So who will triumph in making the best gingerbread house?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Them and Aziraphale friendship, Them and Crowley friendship
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9
Collections: Good Snowmens Winter Gift Exchange





	Of Gingerbread and Flies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [creativerocket-jpg](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=creativerocket-jpg).



> For creativerocket-jpg for The Good Snowmens event. I hope you like it - a bunch of your separate suggestions sent off ideas in my brain and this is what I came up with.

Crowley grumbled, unsure of what had awoken him. Whatever it was, he decided to ignore it and rolled back over, resolute in his decision to sleep in. It was a cold day and best spent, in Crowley's opinion, bundled up under the covers. Maybe he could talk Aziraphale into joining him if he offered the angel some cocoa. It wasn't Crowley's favorite but it could be all right if you punched it up with the right kind of alcohol.

“Seriously, wake up,” Came the voice that had first roused him. That wasn't Aziraphale's voice. Crowley bolted up, startled. His eyes went a little wider when he found the Them standing around his bed. “We can't get started without you,” Adam repeated.

“Get started with what, exactly?” Crowley grabbed for his sunglasses and shoved them on. The Them didn't mind his eyes, but he still preferred covering them up. 

“Dear,” Aziraphale finally joined the others in the bedroom. “The Them has uh...made a bargain on your behalf, it seems.”

Crowley pulled himself out of bed and snapped his fingers to replace his sleeping outfit with his preferred tailored suits (well, if miracles can be counted as tailored). “Someone needs to start at the beginning with this,” He snapped his fingers again, this time in the direction of Wensleydale, “You. Nerdy little human. You tell me – No, Adam,” He shushed Adam before he could start in, “I want this straight and to the point. Wensley's better at that stuff and you know it.”

Adam opened his mouth to argue but then seemed to think better of it. Instead he just shrugged. Excited to be the one chosen, Wensleydale launched into his explanation. “So Adam knew something bad might happen here at your cottage today so he said we should come over here and sure enough,” Normally he wouldn't speak so quickly, but he was also keenly aware that they were on a time limit. Which he really should explain to Crowley immediately, but well...first things first. “We found Beelzebub outside your window – that's what Adam said their name is, anyway, and-”

“Beelzebub?!” Crowley yelped. “Angel, _Why didn't you wake me up?!_ ”

“Because, by the time I knew about it the Them had already taken care of it. Beelzebub's waiting for us in the living room.”

“We moved all the way out here to the Downs to get away from everything. How is it you four keep showing up here?” Crowley tried to look cross. Apparently he was failing, given the way all of the Them were smirking at him. For a mad moment he thought he saw the same expression on Dog. 

Wensleydale cleared his throat to get permission to continue. Crowley nodded at him and gestured for him to get on with it. “So we found Beelzebub outside your window,” he repeated, “And they said they were here to challenge you and Aziraphale because apparently you made them a laughingstock-”

“I never zzssaid that,” Beelzebub pushed the door to the bedroom open and glared at everyone. “No one zssaiid that I was ever a laughingstock.”

“You didn't have to say it,” Pepper shrugged. “It was kind of obvious by you being here in the first place.”

Beelzebub vibrated indignantly at them. Crowley wondered for a moment how they managed to do that in a humanoid form, but decided it wasn't worth it to ask. “So they asked me to join them in this ridiculous challenge.”

“I mean, maybe it is ridiculous,” Brian shrugged, “But you agreed to it. Didn't have to twist your arm or anything, either. You just said yes.”

“Demons must take on what we're challenged to,” Beelzebub insisted. Crowley made a face at them. 

“I don't think that's true,” He pondered all the times the Them had challenged him to increasingly ridiculous things, wondering if he hadn't been able to say no due to some demon bylaw he wasn't aware of or whether it was his own fondness for them. He was pretty sure it was the latter, but he would probably be pretending the former was true going forward. 

“So here we are,” Wensleydale continued. “We're all building gingerbread houses and who ever has the best one wins. Aziraphale is the judge.”

“Because since he's an angel he won't be biased,” Adam explained. Crowley resisted the urge to laugh at that. 

“Okay. So I'm ...making a gingerbread house? Or you lot are?” he asked the Them. They all nodded. “So I'm making on or you are?” he repeated, hoping for a real answer this time. 

“All of you are,” Aziraphale cut in to explain. “I judge, but everyone else makes them. If Beelzebub beats you they get to take you with them. If they beat the Them, they take me. If they don't beat either of you then they don't get anyone and owe something to the Them. Though they haven't told me what it is they want.”

“Isn't hell supposed to be leaving me alone?” Crowley demanded. “Pretty sure that was a condition for me leaving you all alone after that holy water incident.”

“I'm not all of hell, am I?” Beelzebub pointed out. “I'm not in hell, I'm here. And this is personal.”

“Of course it is,” Crowley rolled his eyes at them. “Do I miracle in the gingerbread or do we have to waste time making it first? Or are we doing one of those annoying kits?”

“You slept in quite a while, dear,” Aziraphale shrugged. “The Them and I already got all the gingerbread made. It's only fair if it's all the same kind of biscuit, after all. So I helped them with that step – did you know it's rather difficult to make a biscuit that can be used for construction but still tastes nice? But I think we succeeded. They're still gingerbread, but they're also chocolate and I put some ancho powder in there, quite lovely-”

“Can we get on with thisszzz?” Beelzebub insisted. “I don't have all day.”

“I mean, don't you?” Pepper asked innocently. “What do you do all day down in Hell, really? Just ...sit over and poke souls with a pitchfork, I imagine. This is probably way more fun.”

Beelzebub didn't answer. 

“At any rate, we should probably move on. Let's stop standing around in my bedroom and get started on this whole …” Crowley wanted to call it a fiasco. He'd never baked before and never decorated any type of dessert before. And he supposed the rules probably demanded that he not use any miracles. He confirmed this with Adam, who looked indignant at the suggestion. 

“What kind of competition would it be, then? Pepper, Dog, Wensley and Brian can't do miracles. Where would that leave them? I mean, yeah, I'm on their team but it still wouldn't be fair. Even though we have been practicing.”

Apparently this rule was news to Beelzebub. They stamped their foot in irritation. Crowley smirked at how childish they were being, but didn't say anything. “You mean I have to do this the ...human way?!”

“Yeah. That's what makes it fun,” Adam insisted. 

The kitchen was already well prepared for the competition. Aziraphale had even thought to put some tarps down on the floor to minimize the mess, as though they weren't going to just miracle it all clean later. There were three long tables set up in different parts of the room, and Crowley made a mental note to tell Aziraphale to stop watching so much Great British Bake Off. Each table had a stove built into it, the gingerbread on the side, paper and a pencil to draw designs out with and of course tubes of frosting.

“Crowley, dear, you'll be over here,” Aziraphale gestured to the table closest to the front, directly in front of a stool that Aziraphale now perched on. Beelzebub took the table to the left behind Crowley and the Them took the one on the right. 

“Aziraphale, sir?” Wensley piped up from their table. “Actually, could we have some water and sugar? I read that burned sugar holds the houses together better.”

“Are you old enough to cook?” Aziraphale asked, looking embarrassed as he was clearly trying to puzzle out the Them's ages. “I just don't want any of you to hurt yourselves.”

“I can do it,” Brian insisted. “My mom taught me how to cook. She said it's the first step in learning to look after yourself. I just have to clean up any messes I make.” Brian always tried to clean up said messes, but no matter how hard he tried his mother always found a spot later. Multiple spots, really. 

Aziraphale did a complicated gesture with his right hand and a boiling pot of water appeared in front of the Them on their stove. Brian checked it carefully and confirmed the sugar was already in it. 

Crowley watched them carefully, then glanced over at Beelzebub. They hadn't started any construction yet. In fact, instead of even attempting to build they'd popped a piece of gingerbread in their mouth. Crowley watched as Beelzebub closed their eyes, apparently savoring the flavor. Their eyes popped open and they grabbed another handful, scarfing it down. Crowley couldn't blame them. Aziraphale had become an excellent baker. Even Crowley could be easily tempted by Aziraphale's treats.

He took a nibble off one piece of his own gingerbread and conceded that it was definitely very tasty. But unless Beelzebub ended up eating all of theirs and had to forfeit, he still had to construct something. He took two pieces and frosted them together, wondering if he should follow the Them's example and make burned sugar. He decided against it. He didn't know how to make it and would probably just burn through one of Aziraphale's pots and make the angel grumble at him. 

He stepped back, trying to admire his handiwork. All he had done was make a triangle. It slumped the moment he let go, the pieces falling over each other. He sighed and glanced over at the Them. They were remarkably good at teamwork. Brian was cooking, Pepper was assembling, Adam was the designer and Wensleydale was making adjustments on the fly when things didn't work out. And Dog ate any pieces that fell on the floor. Crowley sighed and turned back to his own gingerbread, trying to figure out what to do.

After several minutes of trying several things only to have them work out disastrously, Crowley glanced at Aziraphale, who smiled back at him, then pulled out his pocket watch. “I do believe we forgot to tell Crowley about the time limit.”

“Sorry Crowley!” The Them chorused, none of them looking up from their creation. 

“How long?”

“You have ..oh, ten minutes left.”

“Ten minutezz?!” Beelzebub grumbled. Crowley checked out their table and snickered. Beelzebub really had spent the whole time eating instead of working. They now had two sad little pieces of gingerbread left. Nothing someone could really make something out of. 

“Nine now, since you both groused for so long,” Aziraphale corrected cheerfully. Crowley hissed at him. 

Crowley took a few marshmallows from a nearby pile and started fiddling with them, then slapped some of his gingerbread together in heaps that he thought vaguely resembled what he was going for. By the time Aziraphale called that time was up Crowley figured he'd done about as well as could be expected. 

“First, Beelzebub's,” Aziraphale motioned for everyone to join him at Beelzebub's table. They had a single piece of gingerbread left, which they had stuck a chocolate chip on. 

“It's uh. Modern art,” Beelzebub tried. 

“Excuse me. I invented modern art,” Crowley piped up, “I know modern art when I see it and this isn't it. Unless you have a pretentious way of explaining why the chocolate chip is alone – like it's meant to be a fallen and the gingerbread is the cruelty of -” Aziraphale caught him in the ribs. 

“Crowley, you're not helping.” Which wasn't true. Rather, Crowley was helping the wrong one in this case. 

“A lovely attempt, Beelzebub,” Aziraphale said graciously. They glowered at him. “Ah, now to Crowley's creation,” They all moved together from Beelzebub's table to Crowley's. 

Crowley had haphazardly thrown what was passable for a house together, but more interesting were the two snowmen out front. Both were composed of two marshmallows shoved together. He'd melted some away from one so that the snowman looked skinny. To this one he'd added a piece of black licorice as a scarf. To the other he'd placed a yellow M&M on the top, pressed down so that it might give the appearance of a halo. “'S Me. Me and Angel,” He explained unnecessarily. Aziraphale looked touched. Adam let out a small “aww,” which the rest of the Them then echoed (Well, Dog barked it, but softly). 

“Well, that's enough of mine. Let's see what Hellspawn and the others came up with, shall we?” Now it was Crowley who led everyone to the final table. He felt immediately sheepish on seeing what the Them had come up with.

The house was something to look at. A Victorian model all done up in gingerbread – as the kids had planned it was held together by burnt sugar but the frosting had been utilized to draw bricks on the sides and shingles on the roof. A dog – Dog by the look of the one inside out ear – had been carefully crafted out of modeling chocolate. There were four kids building a snowman (and here Crowley was surprised to find they'd also used marshmallows for their snowman – it made him feel he'd done something correctly). The kids looked to be made of a mixture of modeling chocolate and fondant. It wouldn't pass for professionally done – some of it was lopsided, one kid was missing an ear and they hadn't bothered to mold feet on any of them – but it was still a triumph. 

“Fine, fine, they won,” Beelzebub threw up their hands. “I concede. Even Crowley's was better than mine. I'll leave now.”

“You can't!” Adam insisted. “There's too much gingerbread for all of us, and it's really cold out there.”

“You do understand they're going back to hell, right?” Crowley interrupted. “Cold is not exactly the problem there.”

“It doesn't matter. It's cold, we have all this gingerbread, we should eat it together,” Pepper argued. “You rarely ever eat, Crowley. This is too much for just us and Aziraphale. And Beelzebub really liked the gingerbread, didn't you?”

“Er uh...maybe,” Beelzebub's eyes darted away from the kids and Crowley found himself snorting at the situation. These kids could easily face down all the forces of hell, just by being their usual sweet selves, he figured. 

“So?” Crowley asked. “Will you be staying?”

Aziraphale's eyebrows went up. “Crowley, are you asking Beelzebub to spend the rest of the day with us and the Them?”

“Do we have a choice? This lot already decided for us, I think. Besides, they like your gingerbread. Thought you'd be happy about that, at least.”

“It was very good,” Beelzebub admitted, their voice small. “I'd like to stay.”

“Good,” Pepper said with a nod. “I think that's what we were going to ask from you anyway, for our winning.”

“Right,” Brian agreed. “You have to stay.”

“All right. But any tricks and Angel here gets out the holy water.”

Beelzebub's eyes grew to the size of saucers. Apparently it hadn't occurred to them that Aziraphale could get holy water whenever he pleased. The truth was there was never any in the house and Aziraphale was unlikely to allow it for fear of any of it accidentally splashing on Crowley. 

It was agreed that Beelzebub could spend the rest of the day with them. Crowley and Aziraphale had both learned that it was almost impossible to argue with the Them once their mind was made up and well, if they ended up with another demon who, while not on their side exactly might be ...adjacent, well, where was the harm? 

So they passed the rest of the day with Aziraphale showing Beelzebub how to make the gingerbread, the Them showing them how to make snowballs (and of course, then having an ensuing snowball fight – Beelzebub had excellent aim and was delighted to find that the Them kept arguing about who got them on their team). By the time the sun was setting they were all back inside, gathered in front of the fire. Aziraphale threw a blanket around Beelzebub's shoulders, then wrapped himself and Crowley in another one. 

“Your hands are always freezing, dear,” Aziraphale complained. In answer Crowley put his hands up Aziraphale's shirt. “Ughk! That's not funny!”

Beelzebub chuckled then took a long sip of their hot cocoa. “This is why you like it here, huh?” 

“It's part of why I like it here,” Crowley answered, his arms wrapping protectively around Aziraphale. “There's even more good stuff. You'd be surprised... You should come up again. Let the Them show you around.”

Beelzebub took another sip, mulling it over. “I'd like that.”

“Oh look!” Adam pointed out the window, “The snow's started!” Crowley resisted the urge to point out that it was only snowing because Adam felt it should be, deciding to enjoy the view instead. 

All in all, even he had to admit, snuggled up with Aziraphale like he was, surrounded by some of the people he liked most (minus Newt and Anathema and plus Beelzebub, who may be coming around but was still not someone to be trusted or liked, at least not yet). Even Crowley had to admit this was a pretty perfect day.


End file.
